“They are won over. Just wonderful!” Tears of gratitude stood in Norma’s eyes as she reported to her superior.
“These came here for just one purpose,” the Lieutenant said.
“To help win the war.”
“Yes. That’s it. To hasten the end of this terrible affair and to help bring their brothers, sweethearts, and friends back home again.
“So how could they fail to do their best or refuse to respond to the orders of any leader? But you, my child,”—she placed a hand on Norma’s shoulder—“you have real officer’s blood coursing through your veins.”
Norma thanked her, then marched away.
“She spoke wiser than she knew,” Norma thought with a smile. She had not told her that her father had been an officer in the other World War.
But did she really want to become an officer of the WACs? She did not know.
After that the days glided by. Drill was not all there was to their training. Far from that. The Articles of War were read to them. They studied long hours learning what it meant to be a soldier. They studied military regulations. They took gas mask drill, first aid, and a score of other activities that were likely to fall to the lot of any WAC.
From time to time each girl was assigned to K. P.—Kitchen Police—peeling potatoes, washing dishes, scrubbing floors, dishing up food.